Brave New World
by BeregornII
Summary: How does the world react to the changes after 02? The transition from modern society to one integrated closely with the digital world is not a simple one. Where do the digidestined go from here? R R please
1. Chapter 1

*Don't own anything connected to digimon. Made this because I thought it would be interesting to try and put a serious spin on how a world would react to the events after 02. I am not even close to being knowledgeable about Japanese culture, so all you who are will have to bear with me. Meh. Haven't written much in ages. Constrictive Critisim is welcome.*

The young blond, stuck between full manhood and teenager, is lost in thought. He sits, beside a blue striped companion and another young man with an odd insect looking creature, in front of a battery of lights glaring down upon them and the stage they sit on. Beyond that, a crowd of people sit on bleachers, with more strange creatures. Across a desk sits an older man, graying and serious. Also behind the desk, yet another strange creature, although the lack of comment from anyone robs the word "strange" of any meaning. Several cameras film the whole scene.

The young blond scarcely pays any of this attention. In the past 10 months, he has been through this too many times for a TV taping and all its trappings to be anything more than, well, business as usual. So he thinks.

_I need to take a break from this_. _Rest, get away from it, whatever. _The other young man, shorter, with neat brown hair, is talking animatedly to the host, who nods seriously in agreement. The insect occasionally chips in, which in turn elicits a response from the amphibian looking creature beside the old man.

"…but, the shock to the global system has likely put it beyond repair", the host says.

"You assume that the global hegemony was a good thing to begin with. I'm sure Matt here agrees that just because it was stable and what we were used to…"

The blond named Matt nods, only half listening, his train of thought redirected.

_Right. A serious news show. None of the adventure recounting and soul searching, like Oprah. None of the relationship or style gossip that a few other shows had been about. What is this one about? Right. Current global situation almost a year after D-Day. _Matt has already forgotten the name of the host, not out of disrespect, exactly. Just another host. He racks his brains. He should know this one, he is Japanese after all. Well respected journalist. Had done some famous reporting in the seventies and eighties. Matt remembers that the man has had this show for many years now.

_I used to think these shows were so dull, now I'm the main guest with Nakashima Hiroyuki. What the hell happened? Wait. That's his name._

The young man beside him is still talking. The insect creature beside him interjects. Everyone laughs. Matt chuckles as well, although not at the joke.

_Of all of us, who would have suspect Izzy would be flying the highest? Joe is the only one I would have predicted to shy away more, and sure enough he did. Guess when you act like some sort of mission coordinator for the second bunch you gain a reputation for being serious and intelligent…which he is. _Matt smiles to himself. Sora had warned him that in situations like this, Izzy would take over. Matt doesn't mind. Izzy does it out of enthusiasm and genuine knowledge, not any desire to hog the spotlight.

It therefore comes as no surprise when Nakashima asks Matt specifically a question in order to somehow include him in the discussion.

"Yamoto, you and Gabumon have been working towards essentially trying to get people to calm down and view the changes rationally. While the reactions have mostly been much better then anyone could have hoped for, there have still been some issues, specifically with…"

_…hard-line religious groups, and in some despotic nations_.Matt has heard this many times before, and begins to launch into his standard answer. He and Gabumon have been through it enough, it might as well have been rehearsed. Matt zones out even as he speaks. Several minutes later, and Matt and Izzy's segment draws to a close. Matt is thankful. _Definitely taking a break after this. _

"After the break, I will speak with Finnish Brigadier General Jarmo Rask and Korean Colonel Ho Jun Kim on the almost complete reduction of Pakistan and Indias nuclear arsenals…"

_Wrap up, wrap up, wrap up…_The host finally finishes, the crowd applauses, Matt and Izzy stand, bow and shake Nakashima's hand.

"It was truly an honour, speaking to all of you". Matt is still surprised at the respect they receive from older and (ostensibly) more accomplished people. Izzy, Matt, Gabumon and the insect creature, Tentomon, thank the host and his companion, Betamon. They leave, and step out into the Tokyo night air into a back street.

"Well that went very well!" Izzy is enthusiastic and energized. Matt shrugs non-committally. He doesn't really care either way. He wants to get back to "The Mansion". It is late, almost eleven at night.

"I just have to make a call, Izzy, give me a second". Matt takes out his cell phone, and dials. After a minute, the ringing doesn't stop. _Where is she?_

"Not answering?" Gabumon looks up. "Perhaps she stayed the night there, I wouldn't worry."

"Yeah…yeah, you're right." _Well, repairing the digital world isn't an easy task…almost a year later, still so much to be done…she's always putting others ahead of her...what the hell am _I _doing?_

"Well, as long as you aren't returning to the arms of your beloved, how about a late supper? I'm not tired, just hungry". Izzy is grinning, trying to needle Matt.

"Come on, Matt, there's a quiet, out of the way place we know, it will be even more quiet at this hour. I'll deal with the hordes of female admirers. It wouldn't kill you. Besides, I'm starving." Tentomon gets into the act.

Matt sighs and looks up into the air. The bright lights of the city block out any stars. They stand on a side street, only a few people and Digimon walk past, not paying heed to the four figures by a back studio exit. _I've got to snap out of this_. _Fine. I might even enjoy myself._

"Alright guys, let's go. You think we can get the meal for free? Or has the glamour worn off already?"

"It's worked before there, but we've likely used it up by now" Izzy laughs. Matt allows himself a genuine grin. The four figures step out of the side street and onto a busy main street, bustling with energy, even this late, perhaps _because_ it is this late. Safe.

Over ten thousand kilometers away, in a dingy bar in Mogadishu, a man walks in. The bartender, watching a football match on an old, beaten up analog TV, looks up. His eyes widen. The man, stocky, but otherwise unremarkable, nods slightly. The bartender points to a man sitting in a corner table, alone, looking drunk. The late afternoon sun reflects off a dingy glass in his hand. The man is disheveled and black, standing out among the other denizens of the bar, who are Somalis.

The visitor walks up to the man, and sits down across from him. The others in the bar are more focused on the football match. Someone gives a shout at a play. The drunk looking man slides an envelope under the table. The visitor grabs it and puts it into his pocket. Without another look he gets up and leaves the bar. Outside, the sinking sun gives a yellow cast to the garbage strewn dirt street. The visitor reads the letter quickly, smiles, and walks away.


	2. Chapter 2

Low level of response, but there was one review, so I'll try some more. Previous declaimers still apply. Introing an original character here. I cut the chapter short because I was tired of writing it, ha.

Her name is Sonya Markova. She half crouches, looking at the digimon in front of her with a considering look, taking a slow drag on the cheap cigarette in her mouth. She is blond and fair, a little short for a girl, very slender. The 17 year old is wearing a McDonald's uniform. The street behind her is busy with tourists, both human and digimon. Tallinn's McDonalds is behind her, the outdoor eating area packed and noisy.

"You are sure she said that? Anna Nittymaki is a lying bitch. I've told you before. I wouldn't trust anything she says, the whore." Sonya looks hard at the small, black, bird like creature.

"_Da_! She was talking to that other Finn girl, Kipprusoff. She said if she ever caught you near Dmitri again, she and Gaomon were going to find you and me and teach us a lesson. She said she knew someone who could get her a gun."

"So fucking what? Jorma has a cousin who runs guns and drugs over the border, I could get one from him, I'm sure." She says it more to herself then the dark, owl-looking digimon. The unusually humid air and the noon sun cause a bead of sweat to slide down her neck. "_Blya, _as if I am interested in him. He comes to _me_."

The digimon tilts his head.

"Sonya, you do attract trouble. If I wasn't starting to know you better, I would say that you are the cause of it, but I guess it is bad luck. I just wish you would trust me more."

Sonya rises, tosses the cigarette butt to the ground and grinds it with her heal into the street. She glares a little at the digimon.

"I'm not in the mood for a discussion like that now Falcomon. We will talk after practice tonight. I'm sure mother will be happy to discuss it with you until then. She talks to you more than me it seems." Sonya turns her back on the red-spired building she is standing beside and looks back at the restaurant. "Thanks for your help anyway. Stay out of trouble, and don't spy on anyone any more. I don't think we need to worry that much about Anna. I'll slap Dmitri hard enough to leave a mark for a week if he comes by again."

Across the road, a tall skinny man in his early twenties comes out of the resteraunt, also wearing a uniform.

"Sonya! Break's over! Get in here, _kuule-kuule__!_" The man motions with his hands.

"_Hüva_, I'm coming! Just a sec!" Sonya switches to Estonian. She turns again to face Falcomon. "Look, just go do...whatever, we'll talk later, I gotta get going." She starts to walk back to the restaurant, through the crowd of people and digimon.

"Good luck at practice! I'll lay low, if that's what you want. I will see you tonight then." Falcomon yells as she leaves. Sonya turns her head back and gives him an odd look. _He has been doing that the last few weeks, offering support or something_. She looks ahead again and enters the restaurant. The line is full, humans and digimon both standing, waiting for food. Sonya goes around the counter, and back to the line, putting burgers together.

The work is busy this time of day, non-stop. The people around her work frantically to cover the incoming orders. Sonya is experienced though, and works almost without thought, giving her time to mull her situation over in her mind.

As an ethnic Russian in Estonia, her situation is less then ideal. There is no hard discrimination exactly, but things are a little tougher, especially when you lived in what amounted to a bit of a slum. Just her and her mother, Katya. Sonya remembers her father dimly, but he was long dead. Katya's bitterness at this was apparent.

"_Ach! Your stupid father. Anton was a good man, but after the collapse, there was just no money. Even less then before. He could have waited it out, but he just wouldn't. Finally got mixed up with the mob, racketeering, no matter how much I told him I would have none of it. Child, he took a half-dozen rounds from a _patsani _with an Uzi. The damn fool knew it would end that way. He just pretended it wouldn't. As good as abandoned us." _

Times had always been a little hard, especially in the neighbourhood they lived in. It was made up of other Russians, a few Finns as well. The mob had always permeated the place, but until the collapse of the Soviet Union, it had been avoidable. Sonya thinks herself fortunate. She doesn't know much about her father, but the number of books left in the small apartment, and his legacy of insisting Sonya learn Estonian indicated a love of knowledge and learning.

_I'll never get to talk to him, get him to answer for what became of him. Times were bad, he had to do _something _I suppose. _Bozhe moy, _almost everyone I know now has some connection to the underworld nowadays. _

It is certainly that type of neighbourhood. Not a slum, but quite poor, lower class. A lot of money is brought in through illegal means. Sonya knows it is a small victory that her only vice is cigarettes, and no more then a half pack a day at that. Sonya considers herself tough, and her father's death has hardened her to shun the easy life of a criminal. She tries in school, which is more than can be said for most people she knows. She got this job here, after all. She usually works the counter, as she can speak Estonian and Russian, with enough Finnish to work on, and enough Swedish to understand she doesn't know enough Swedish. Today she is working the burger line though. She slips into her favorite daydream.

_Make enough money to move to Canada, or at least the States. Get a scholarship to play hockey somewhere. Get out of here, where dreams go to die. Find a good man and live life for once. Canada or North-East America. I like the winter. Near the sea, or some water. Montreal, Halifax, Boston. It needs to be a city though, I'm comfortable in cities. _

She understands it's just daydreaming, but hope is what keeps her going some days. Her dream used to simply be for a white knight to ride in and carry her away from everything. But she understands now that only hard work will get her out of Tallinn, or at least out of her current life. She lives for hockey, the biggest reason she took on the job. Somehow, her mother had come up with the money to let her first try it, and whenever there was a tournament in Tartu, or Riga, or even that one time in Helsinki, a little money became available, although not without a fight. Sonya suspects that maybe her father was able to actually make some money with the mob, and her mother has been watching it ever since. Sonya would rather earn her own money to try and support herself.

Almost a year ago, things had changed. The strange patterns in the sky, the whispers, ranging from Armageddon to government experiment. Sonya mostly remembers it, midmorning, a battle in the overcast sky, light everywhere. She was just leaving the apartment, she doesn't recall why. Everyone staring into the sky, where some kids were fighting some monster with other monsters assisting them. Light coming from everyone, somehow. The monster defeated. Light everywhere, and all of a sudden, in front of her, a small little bird creature, staring up at her. Cute, but very unexpected. Sonya had even screamed a little, something she would never admit to, usually. As she looked around the dirty courtyard in those moments immediately afterwards, she saw was not the only one shocked. People were yelling, a few even fainted.

_"Wh-what…are you?" _

_"A digimon. I'm Pinamon." In Russian. _

And the world was changed forever.


	3. Chapter 3

All previous disclaimers apply. Any reviews would be bueno, as I have one so far.

From his perch on a stool at the table, Tentomon takes in the atmosphere of the restaurant. Marcini's is a favorite of Tentomon's. Izzy had described it as "aesthetically pleasing".

_A very Izzy thing to say. Hmm, Italian food is truly one of the finer things in any world._

The restaurant is mostly quiet this late. The private booth they sit in is made of dark wood, maybe mahogany, but Tentomon isn't concerned with that right now. The lighting is a little dim, but still warm. Old world paintings hang on the mottled dark yellow-chestnut walls. On the table is a bottle of deep red wine, South African, apparently, almost black in colour. Filled glasses sit in front of both Izzy and Matt. Though neither of them are twenty, Marcini doesn't seem to mind. Most restaurant owners didn't.

_I suppose saving the world gives you a certain amount of credibility, however young you are. _

Gabumon sits by Matt, looking dozy. Matt and Izzy are talking about light matters, joking and telling old stories. Tentomon suspects the conversation will get more serious as the night waxes. For now though, food is his primary concern. A long day, and dinner had been almost six hours ago. Supper was most certainly in order. Something with shrimp, perhaps. A young waiter appears, takes the orders, with an "I can't believe I'm waiting on a group so famous" look on his face. Tentomon barely notices, and the rest likely don't either. They have been getting a lot of that lately. The conversation continues.

"…has to be better than Dad's cooking anyway. Living a bachelor's life is not nearly as exciting and sexy as it looks on TV. Instant noodles and mystery meat gets old in a real hurry."

"Can Sora cook?"

"Pffffft, not at all. I'm working on it though. You know, non traditional gender roles and all that. I don't want to end up like my old man, ha!"

Gabumon snorts.

"Working on it is right. I've never seen a soup solidify in five minutes."

The table laughs. The food arrives awhile later, a beaming Mancini brining the food himself, pleased to have such famous patrons. He is a big man, and speaks Japanese with a distinctly European accent.

"Ah! You brought another one of your comrades then, but not the lady? It is an honour to meet you sir, an honour. I assure you that tonight everything is on me, and if you need anything, do not hesitate to ask Gunther Mancini!" The friendly owner leaves. Tentomon eagerly smells his plate of fettuccini with shrimp. Matt begins digging into his plate of manicotti, and without looking up smirks.

"'Not the lady?' Izzy, Izzy, Izzy. I hope all that fanmail from nerdy girls around the world hasn't gone to your head. Celebrity or not, you will always be a little geek in my book. Anyone I know by any chance?" The mocking tone in the last few words indicates that Matt thinks it is. Gabumon gives Tentomon a significant look. Tentomon focuses hard on his pasta. Izzy blushes.

"Look, does that really matter?' Izzy sandbags.

"Well, yeah, I want to know if you dragged me out to the same place that you've been carrying on with this mysterious lady. Very suspicious. I've noticed that a certain girl back at The Mansion is pretty grumpy when you aren't around, complains about it. A lot, since you are so damn busy." Matt drains his glass of wine and pours himself another.

"Hey Matt?"

"Uh huh?"

"Go fuck yourself."

At this Matt roars with laughter, Izzy drains his glass of wine in a hurry and pours another rather generous glass for himself. Tentomon has no love of wine, and drinks water, relieved that the subject has been changed. Tentomon and Izzy just aren't used to that kind of conversation. The night carries on, and it is well past midnight when the conversation turns more serious. The second glasses of wine complete, and with a third started, both young men seem relaxed. They lean back, staring into the distance. Gabumon and Tentomon talk quietly.

"It's been a long week, old friend. Maybe we should try and get back home for a bit." Gabumon looks worn down, and Tentomon is not surprised he has suggested it.

"You are right, I'm sure whatever we have scheduled can wait for a bit. Maybe we can even convince some of the others to come with us. It has been awhile since we were all together in the digital world."

Matt interrupts.

"There is always so much to do. I don't even know where half of us are right now. Izzy, what has Tai gotten up to lately? I haven't even talked to him in weeks."

"He is in Le Paz, speaking to the OAS." Izzy mutters lazily.

"OAS?"

"Organization of American States."

"What, like the United States?" Matt asks. Izzy sits up and launches into that educational lecture tone of voice that Tentomon knows so well.

_Matt likely does as well. Actually, most of the world knows it now_.

"No, the Organization of American States. All of the nations in North and South America, and the Caribbean, even Cuba now. That's why it's in Le Paz, which is in Bolivia. Not Texas or New Mexico or wherever it was you were thinking."

Matt starts to look more brooding and dark. A clock chimes one in the morning somewhere.

"God, he's really done a lot. He's worked harder than anyone since it happened. Even you and Joe. I mean, you became the technical and knowledge face of us, Kari and Gatomon became the spokes…miscellaneous…for human-digimon relationships, but then Tai and Agumon go off and decide to be interworld diplomats. Do you remember how he took the reins those first few weeks? Before the rest of us finally got out heads on straight. Somehow he convinced the entire world to calm the fuck down, even if it took awhile, coordinate the DigiDestined of the world, and started learning not one, not two, not three, but four different languages! And he worked his ass off doing it! Agumon, meanwhile, is trying to restore the digital world and to at least try and reorganize the digimon so that if something did go wrong they could try and present a united front."

Izzy smiles a bit.

"They did do an incredible job. Davis is brave, but not much in the finesse or diplomacy department. World leaders, however shocked and confused, don't react well to cocky, overbearing kids. Or enthusiastic but slightly clumsy digimon, it turns out. I am impressed with their language skills. Tai already knew English anyway. He _did_ come to me to ask which languages would be best."

"Remind me, I could use an educational moment."

"Why, Russian, French, Arabic and Mandarin of course. His Russian is alright, his French is very good, as is his Mandarin, but he is still working on the Arabic. I think he has already gotten into Spanish, although once you learn French…" Izzy trails off, exhausting that train of thought.

_Unusual for him, must be the wine and exhaustion_. _He would never admit it though._

Matt fills the sudden silence.

"He's up there, talking to presidents, prime ministers, royalty, dictators, everyone. And he's doing it so well. He's almost learning as he goes."

"I think that perhaps as usual, dire situations bring the best out in him."

"Well this is one hell of a dire situation. Jesus. The world brought to a standstill, panic in the streets. The stock market went crazy, Izzy, remember?"

"Matt, do we have to-" Izzy's half groan is cut off.

"It was like 9/11 all over again. The whole world shut down. People lost a lot of money and jobs, everything was screwed up. There were how many people killed that day due to panic and confusion? Even with the new digimon trying to calm their partners down." Matt is agitated now. "Even now, people are still trying to figure out what to do. Things are getting better now, but still. There were too few of us to try and stem that tide. A couple hundred DigiDestined kids and their stalwart companions against a world gone mad." Gabumon sits silently, lost in his own thoughts. Izzy is leaning into the table now.

"Matt, it was only that bad in a very few places, really. We did what we could as fast as we could do it. The younger bunch was just too tired and hurt. You won't focus on the positive. The only thing I would count as a disaster was Dubrovnik."

Although that atmosphere at the table has been growing more thick, with the word Dubrovnik, everyone tenses fully.

_Oh, the screams, the yelling, the sirens. Shots, bullets whizzing. The smell of smoke and burning metal. Blood on the cobblestones, dead empty eyes glazing over. Heat, that surge of power. Never again._

Matt looks dazed for a moment, and the broody posture falls away. He goes slightly pale.

"Izzy, no, I got carried away here, let's not go there tonight." Matt is almost pleading.

"We have to face it sometime Matt, it highlighted important cracks in humanity."

_Screams, blood, the heat._

"Izzy, not right now, it's still too soon, and we are all so tired." Gabumon now looks at Izzy, and he _is _pleading.

_Eyes slowly glazing over, staring into nothing._

"Pretending it never happened won't change any of it, we shou-"

"Izzy, Stop." Tentomon tries to keep his voice controlled, but he says it louder than he normally would, and his voice is shaking.

_It hurt us badly. After everything in the digital world, we never expected our worst battle in this one, in an old, seaside city. Show some empathy Izzy, please. You were there._

At Tentomon's words, Izzy stops. The look on his face slowly turns to sheepishness and then shame. For a moment the table is dead silent once more. Izzy looks like he too is remembering just what happened.

"I'm sorry, it is late, the wine…" he trails off, looking at his empty third glass.

"Well I wasn't helping, I need to buck up. We're just worn down, and the wine went to our heads, we shouldn't be talking about serious crap right now. We should call a cab and get back home." Matt is calmer now, and he looks sheepish himself recalling his earlier words. Tentomon still feels a little shaky.

"You're right, you call a cab, I'll leave some money. It's not like there's a shortage of it on our end." Izzy digs some notes out of his pocket and sets them on the table. Matt takes out his phone and calls a cab. Gabumon looks at Tentomon and gives a little sigh of relief. They rise, and leave the restaurant. This street is very quiet this late, although the continuous hum of the city is still audible. Matt looks at Izzy, and puts an arm on his shoulder.

"It'll all work out I guess. Look how far we've come already? Anyway, the food was great. And I'd love to hear more about this mystery girl." Gabumon laughs, and as the cab pulls up Izzy grimaces a little.

"It's late, no more serious talk, let's go home." They step into the cab, and pull away into the Tokyo streets, all wanting to get back to their beds. The world never stops moving, but they have to at some point.

_Home sounds great._


	4. Chapter 4

Holy responses Batman, keep 'em coming. Shoehorned a few minor literature references in here, specifically referring to Pullmans fantastic "His Dark Materials" and then stealing a line from Jordan's "Wheel of Time" series. Any constructive criticism would be hella rad.

Sonya sits on the cramped tram on her way to the rink, her hockey bag taking up far too much room and earning her glares from an old woman and her companion, a Dorimon. Sonya ignores her, and takes a look around the streetcar she has been on so many times before. As usual, she can't help but note that the crowd on board is almost a microcosm of the city. There, a leather wearing punk, complete with dyed mohawk and piercings. Beside him, the Xiaomon providing a distinct counterpoint appearance-wise, although the attitude is the same. A few bored looking thirtysome-things, a little kid with one earbud headphone in his own ear and the other in the ear of a Kudamon. The music is audible to anyone within a few meters. A man in a dark grey suit, looking very hot, yaps into a cell phone while a Shamonmon sits nearby.

_Hmm, definitely a different microcosm then a year ago. _

Sonya is glad her shift is over, and she's keen to get to the rink. She despises the off-season, but there is no arguing with the mother nature. The tram trip is a long one, and she is still a little surprised at the occupants, at least the monster types.

Almost a year now, and still adjusting to be made. Still, it's nothing compared to those first few months. Everyone was trying to figure out just what to make of the odd companions. It was all well and good for that handful of kids world wide who had experience, but everyone else was very put off. Besides, no one knew exactly how that would affect, for instance, school. Or jobs, or military matters. Were they pets? No, they despised that label, and they certainly weren't. Were they sort of adopted family? Well, that certainly seemed the case. They ate and took up space though, and that cost money. Could they work? That was also slowly becoming apparent. On a personal level it was also very disconcerting. Some people were terrified, others weren't. Some people instantly took to their new companions, most took a little time. A few abandoned them, and a very small amount tried to kill them, with varying success. Sonya is reminded of a book she read once by an English author, taking place in a world similar to hers, but very different, in the sense that each persons soul had a physical form, in the shape of an animal that reflected the persons personality. The digimon mirror or complement the individual. For their part, Sonya thought the digimon showed a lot more understanding then humans did.

_Not that I am much better. I just don't trust easily, with father dead, and the neighbourhood being what it is. Trust is the colour of death sometimes. He tries hard, and he is very helpful. I can take care of myself though. So confusing. _

The whole world had taken close to a month to figure out how to keep going, and it was quickly apparent that things had changed. Schools had taken forever to restart. Now it was summer at least. The stock market went south, Sonya recalls. It was recovering as investors slowly realized that the potential market had suddenly increased by (when you took size into account) 10% overnight. Obviously, car sales weren't going to increase, but food demand was way up. Those few kids, especially in Japan, were on TV a lot, trying to explain things and keep everyone calm. For the most part, it had worked. Sonya can't remember so much international cooperation. In Estonia, Russia was almost always pressuring the tiny country to bend to its will, but that had eased. No new wars. But still, a lot of people in more traditional parts of the world were having coping issues. Not all, to be sure. Still, all that was beyond her, really. She was just Sonya Markova, and she was going to have to keep going on much as before. 

She notices her stop is up, and leaves, the old lady still glaring at her. The rink is iceless, obviously, so she and some die-hards play on roller-skates until fall. The locker room has the usual crowd, mostly Russians, a few Finns, and a couple of Estonians. And of course Andrija, the Latvian goalie, stocky and nearly 35. Dark brown hair and a ruddy face. She is always cheerful and greets Sonya with a warm smile. One of the few people Sonya occasionally feels comfortable talking to.

Sonya is one of the younger people there, on the bench stands the man who has been coaching them over the summer, Nikolai Popov. The lighting is a little poor, the boards beaten, but Sonya is happier here than anywhere else in the world. Nikolai immediately sets them onto some drills, with his digimon, a penguin-looking thing, yelling support. At first odd, then cute, Penguinmon's yelling and suggestions are now at best part of practice, at worst a little irritating.

_She's on tonight, isn't she just._

As Nikolai works with the goalies, Penguinmon shouts advice on a passing drill they had been set to earlier.

"Come on! Come on! Cycle the puck! Tape to tape passes ladies! Know who's around you!" The practice wears on. Sonya enjoys the burn in her legs, the escape from life. Her favorite part is the scrimmage at the end. She plays left wing, and although it is not as good as on ice, the feeling of speeding down the wing at full speed is still exhilarating. She loves the feeling of freedom. She battles in the corner for the puck like a bulldog, relishing the opportunity to push herself and work out all of the pent up tension and worries from real life.

Afterwards, she sits in the locker-room, the other women are chatting and laughing. Sonya takes off the jersey and brushes her sweaty hair from her eyes.

"Great hustle out there, Sonya", Andrija says. "That was a good pass to Nat, I had no chance." She is always kind and enthusiastic; everyone who knows her can't help but feel relaxed around her.

"Ah, you know, right place right time. Those drills reminded me, I guess. You were looking good too." Sonya tries to brush it off; she's not used to honest compliments on anything, except perhaps her appearance.

"You were really working out there. What's bothering you?" Andrija's voice never changes tone. She is still unstrapping the pads on her legs. Sonya gives puts on a chagrined look. Andrija can be surprisingly observant.

"Well…everything I guess." Sonya doesn't usually open up, but maybe venting a little here would be good. "I just need to start figuring out what the fuck to do with my life, and I need to try and save some money, and maybe that means stopping hockey. My mother will barely look at me these days, some bitch I know wants to kill me…" Sonya feels she may have opened up a little too much there, and she isn't even close to expressing her full feelings. Andrija gives a small chuckle.

"I was your age once. I had a lot of the same problems. Even the girl wanting to kill me. What two pieces of advice do I always give you?"

"Stop smoking, and remember things are never as bad as they seem."

"Exactly. Well, I have another piece of advice. You know those kids on TV? The ones who fought in the digital world? You know how they are always talking about trusting and working with your partner? Maybe you should try. Somehow, I think I am the closest thing you have to a confidant, and you don't confide much. You never talk about your digimon, so I assume you aren't that close. God knows you haven't listened to my other bits of advice, but seriously try. I have yet to meet anyone who has who hasn't regretted doing it sooner. It seems that whatever force did this didn't pick partners at random. I think you will be surprised. Don't worry about life. You'll do fine, girl. You are a fighter, and you have a good head on your shoulders."

Sonya is touched, strangely. It is more support then she's gotten from mother in years. She smiles.

"Spasibo," _Thank you. _She hugs the older woman.

"If you blow off this advice, the next time you sit in my crease, I am going to hack the back of your legs until you can't stand." Adrija pats Sonya on the shoulders. "And one more piece of advice."

"_Da?"_

"Get a shower." Both of them laugh. As they leave the rink minutes later, Andrija hugs Sonya again.

"_Poka." _Andrija leaves. Sonya wishes that the goodbye didn't feel so final.

Outside a beat up shack in Somalia, the setting sun glints off the eyes of a man. The man is stocky, but otherwise unremarkable. His skin is a light brown, so that he may be a variety of ethnicities, even a Caucasian with a tan. The shack is small, but neat. Corrugated metal on the roof, plywood walls. It is even a little removed from other shacks, almost a manor estate in this slum. He enters with out knocking, his hand in his jacket. In the biggest of three tiny rooms, there is a tiny rough table and a beat up chair, white paint all but gone. The floor has a few beat up boards. The visitor removes his hand from his pocket, now carrying a Glock 18 with silencer. Not that anyone here would remark at gunshots.

The visitor quietly enters the second room, tiny, with a beat up mattress lying on the floor. There, asleep, is a small red furry creature, with a spiky tail and blue striping. The visitor aims the weapon, and fires three shots in quick succession to the head. The creature never even knows what happens. It dissolves strangely and disappears, leaving no trace.

The visitor senses movement. In the doorway (although there is no door) stands a small boy, about 14, Somali. He looks at the man with the gun with a face half in shock, half enraged, and then with surprising swiftness screams and draws a small knife. The visitor is an experienced fighter, but he is still taken aback at the child's ferocity. The man deftly grabs the boys knife hand in midair, twists it and leans his weight into it until he hears the crack of bone, but his gun is knocked loose in the melee. The boy yells in pain, and drops the knife, but still swings his other fist. The man blocks it, and punches the boy in the ribs, again rewarded with the crack of bone. The boy goes down.

The man picks up his gun and looks at his assailant. The boy is wheezing and in obvious pain. The boy is undernourished, not at all badly for this part of the world, but he would be considered sickly in Europe. He glares viscously, and then speaks in Arabic.

"You bastard! You killed Elecmon! Son of a whore!" He is cut short by the man's pistol-butt.

"No need to get angry. I assure you it will all be over in a minute." The man responds in Arabic. He aims the gun at the boy's forehead, only a few feet away. The boy glares even harder, and then spits at him.

_Fight in this one. He is master of his fear. It won't do him any good._

The man gives a small laugh at the boy's tenacity.

"Your opinion is noted." Then he shoots.

The man leaves the house, taking nothing with him. He wipes the gun down as he leaves. There are a few people on the dirt street. They look at him, but no one seems to care. This is a defeated piece of the planet. The visitor takes out a Blackberry, types something in, then walks away. As he does, he can't help but be reminded of quote he heard when he was in Mozambique for the first time. A café outside, a black man without a hand.

_"What is the third world? Ha! My friend, the third world is anyplace where life is cheap." _

The man walks on.


	5. Chapter 5

Bleh. I hate this chapter. It's some set up, mostly, a bit more background, and the soft intro of the second major storyline. It will get better, I swear. Nobody gets a gat in the face in this chapter. I should also mention at this point that I am writing essentially to canon, as it's more challenging and interesting. R and R. When you don't R and R, you don't R and R with Hitler.

At the slight noise in the corner in the room, the reader looks up from the thumbnail picture in the hardcover notebook in her hands. The picture is of a girl in her mid-to late teens, with pink dyed hair and a blue shirt. The girl is rather pretty, with an honest smile on her face. The name beside the picture reads Tachikawa Mimi. The reader turns slightly to look at the couple on the couch. The reader is a mirror image of the girl in the picture, except her shirt is light orange and she wears a (still honest) frown. The room is large, a living room. A big window takes up one wall, looking down on a beautiful garden, the sun just starting to rise. The room has several well made chairs and couches. A very high end TV hangs from the light olive green wall. There is a rubber tree and several other plants giving the place a very calm, relaxed feel. The room would be a large living room anywhere else; here it is pretty much the secondary living room, but the preferred one. The Mansion, the current residence of those children or young adults referred to as the Japanese digidestined.

The place was a large old manisonesque home that had been offered up by the government. Everyone lived there now. Originally just to keep the pressure off from media, now it served as a bit of a security measure. Initially there was simply some basic security at the gates, now there was a security detail armed with MP 5's and wearing bullet proof vests. Home sweet home. Family dropped in, some more often then others, but for the most part, the place contained only themselves and a small domestic staff.

Mimi focuses her gaze on the couch. Two younger people lie there, holding each other, deep asleep.

_Must have been someone shifting._

The boy is blonde, like his brother. His usual hat lies on the floor. His usual outfit of a longsleeved blue and yellow shirt is combined with cargo shorts. Resting with her head on his shoulder is a girl of the same age, with short brown hair, wearing a rather tight pink shirt and shorts. At the opposite of the couch are their digimon, also close together, also very asleep. Mimi feels some pangs of jealousy.

_Izzy must have gotten in really late last night with Matt…likely got something to eat. I just want to talk to him alone…sending me mixed signals like that. Makes me wonder why I even bother._

She looks again at the sleeping pair.

_No, I shouldn't say that. Those two must have fallen asleep here then. Ever since Croatia, they've been closer than ever...they were both standing so close to Michael when…_

Her face tightens, and she closes her eyes. She takes several deep breaths.

_Well, this is my favorite room, I'm not letting those two force me out. _

She returns her attention to the book. In it is listed every kid who had a digimon partner before everything changed. Nationality, age, name, photo, along with their partners, and contact information all in one handy volume. Some have crests listed, which had come as a shock to Izzy. Things like wisdom, judgment, justice, peace, and more. How wisdom differed from knowledge and judgment from justice was beyond her. She checks her watch. Five in the morning. She had had trouble sleeping, and finally had given up and gotten up, leaving Palmon contently snoring. A few bad dreams, a lot on her mind. She continues to distract herself with the book. She remembers many of them from Dubrovnik and a select few from some other times. Most were great people that she found herself liking. There are always exceptions to the rule. Diego Menem, from Argentina for example.

_That one, just your garden variety douchebag, really. Arrogant, sneering, and convinced he's a ladies man. And Jaya Pandy, from India. Classic bitch-goddess, beautiful but mean. _

She turns a few more pages, and frowns at another face.

_Adam Hollister. Canadian. Not very likeable, but not a bad person. He has the crest of judgment. He wasn't rude, exactly. Very…cynical in many ways, idealistic in others. Strange to give the crest of judgment to a guy like him. A strange guy period._

She continues to read through the names. She would like to get to know all of them better, and she's worked hard to do this. Everyone else was so busy working on helping the rest of the world, maybe it would be nice to work on doing something for them. The different experiences of the kids around the world were varied and interesting, and there was a lot to be learned. Outside the window, the slowly rising sun causes that grey morning lighting, dew on the grass and a low mist that would burn off shortly in the summer heat becomes more visible. Engrossed in her reading, she doesn't notice the slight young man entering half an hour later. Dark, longer then average hair for a boy. He puts his hand on Mimi's shoulder. Mimi jumps and gives a little yelp. The couple on the couch mumble a little, then grab each other more tightly, if that was even possible.

Ken Ichijouji leans in.

"Sorry Mimi. Perhaps we should leave them be. Let's go into the main living room, huh?" he whispers. Mimi is eager at the prospect of conversation, so she nods, turns off the lamp and follows the younger boy. The main living room is quite impressive. A large fireplace, some very nice chairs and couches under a high ceiling. A statue of some Greek god, several nice painting, and some more house plants. The wood paneling is beautiful, and the lighting is warm and inviting, with a crystal chandelier providing most of it; more suitable for entertaining dignitaries than shooting the shit. They sit down in two overstuffed leather chairs.

"Trouble sleeping as well?" he asks.

"Yeah, seems to be a lot of that going around. Just a lot on my mind."

"I know what you mean." Mimi gives a more considering look at Ken. Of everyone, he undoubtedly had the most media experience prior to everything changing. Being a boy wonder had even added legitimacy to the whole thing in some people's eyes. Ken's role had been very limited publicly. He was still unsure of himself in many ways. His previous actions and root of his brilliance had not been disclosed to the public. Mimi personally thought that Ken could handle it, and would one day like to get it off of his back, but everyone else thought it just wasn't helpful or necessary at the current time. The media was still as vicious as ever.

"What's Yolei up to today then?"

Ken gives a wry look.

"She is taking it easy, which I am led to believe will involve trying to spend the entire day with me."

Mimi smiles.

"Is that such a bad thing Ken? She really likes you. Really. She was pretty much the first to open up to you after you finally stopped…you know…"

"I understand that. She is a nice girl. I just don't know if I can handle the idea of someone who fought me loving me. I don't quite think I'm worth of that."

"What? Don't be ridiculous. What would give you that idea, Ken?"

Ken sighs heavily.

"It's just, I guess T.K still won't meet my eyes for more then a moment…I don't think I've erased my sins. It's gotten worse since Dubrovnik…"

_God, after all that, he still feels bad? He is too hard on himself. I'll have to talk to T.K…or maybe I'll just get Matt too._

She begins to speak slowly.

"You have to remember that T.K has fought longer and harder then any of us. He was there in the beginning, before Kari, and was there right up to the end. He grew up in the digital world more then any of us. He lost more then any of us. You need to remember that T.K hates evil or anyone connected to it. When we were in Croatia, he saw that there was evil everywhere. He can't always, you know, turn off. Ken, you've changed, you fought your demons, you won. We all respect and forgive you. Dammit Ken, you and Davis were the only reason we won. Relax."

"Well, I haven't forgiven me. Everyone else fought so hard against me, they were there well before me, T.K and Kari long before I was even the self-styled emperor. I need to do something…extra…on my own. I never really had that chance." A silence follows. "You seem to know a lot about what drives T.K."

"Oh, well Matt told me once." Mimi blushes. Maybe she shouldn't have said so much. Matt wouldn't be happy with her at all.

"Thanks for the sympathy anyway. I'm going to take a walk. I'll talk to you later. Don't worry about Izzy. He likes you. Just give him some time." Ken leaves the room.

Mimi looks around, then gives an exasperated sigh.

"Why can't anyone around here talk about nice things!?"


	6. Chapter 6

Long time no write. Busy with stuff. I've had this chapter in my head awhile now. I have one arc fully plotted out, but not the second one, which is vexing. Anyway, again with the violence here. R and R would be great!

"My brother just called. Storms all over Western Russia so he's going to be stuck in Est…"

He has that thousand yard stare. He is clutching his left forearm where she knows there is a two inch scar. The young blonde in that bucket hat a la _Gilligan's Island_. Not quite as handsome as his brother, more playful and cute looking really. He sits on the couch that they had fallen asleep on the night before. Pataman is rubbing against him looking a little anxious. The eyes are both empty and full of hurt at the same time, staring past the wall. Seen too much too young. Almost an old man behind those eyes, more than any single one of them. On the surface he can seem the happiest and most carefree, but none of them believe that anymore. Kari knows what he is thinking about.

"What is it?" She frowns and sits down next to him, giving him some space.

"A bird in the Garden, Gatoman must have been stalking it. It screamed…god it sounded like Dubrovnik." His voice is flat, no inflection is present. He turns and looks up at her.

"I still dream about it. It's like every other bad dream. What happened when I thought I lost Patamon. All the battles. When I thought I lost you." The voice starts to quaver the tiniest bit. Kari hugs him and sighs. She doesn't know what to say here. Still.

"I know you do too. I hear you sometimes." Kari closes her eyes. Her view of events was pretty much the exact same as his, her dreams much the same as his. She starts to remember. She doesn't want to, but she starts to slide into it…

_It is a beautiful early fall day. But it's an Adriatic fall. Warm. The water is a beautiful blue, the sun is shining. The old city is gorgeous in its distinct architecture. Dubrovnik, Croatia. About two months after that final battle and sweet victory. There, gathered for sort of a conference/celebration, are the world's digi destined. Almost all that they know of. Government officials the world over are there too, to try and learn from them, to try and make sense of this brave new world they have been thrust into. Kari sits at a café outside with T.K, Gatomon and Patamon, sipping lemonade. The sun is shining. The rest of the café is occupied by other 'chosen children' and their digimon, with a scattering of locals. Kari is happy, looking over at T.K and seeing him smile, the happy people around her, excited and chattering. A lot of people to meet, a lot to learn and to tell. Victory still fresh enough. Tomorrow, she herself will lead a workshop, teaching others to teach the public about their digimon. She's nervous, and even more excited. She has rarely felt so alive. _

_"Davis is over there trying to chat up that Norwegian girl, of course. Language looks like it could be a barrier though. I wonder how you say "I'm a total stud" in Norwegian." T.K grins. That same outfit. That same stupid hat. Kari thinks it's goofy looking, but she would never, ever tell T.K that. Besides, she had that whistle. Even _less_ logical. She looks over a few tables. Sure enough, Davis and Veemon are trying hard to convey through gestures and body language their credentials to a bemused looking blonde girl and a skeptical digimon that looks like a plant. A few security personnel stride by, guns and everything. Kari thinks that it's overkill. _

_"She IS quite pretty don't you think?" Gatomon says innocently. _

Now, now, no need to go trying to trip him up, friend.

"_Not really my type", he smiles full on and winks one of his brilliant blue eyes, not missing a beat. Kari's heart skips one though. She loves him, no point in trying to tiptoe past that. He knows it though. She really doesn't feel any need to vocalize it yet, he loves her too. Things are fine, why change anything? She feels like her whole life is free. Half a year ago, surviving another week seemed a tossup. No need to rush it. _

"_Tai speaks in about ten minutes, we should finish up our drinks and get moving everyone." Patamon chirps, not unhappily. _

"_Because that's who I _haven't _heard enough of the last few years." Kari isn't that keen on this talk. Tai practiced the presentation in front of her, after all. It'll be nice to see him actually get up and do it. It's really quite complex, on the geopolitical reactions to the digital world, and attempting to get others to lobby for the protection of the digital world. Or something like that. It seemed ambitious for Tai. _

_T.K looks at his watch. Then grunts in agreement as he drains his glass of lemonade. He turns his head. Two girls are approaching the table. A redhead, their age, and a younger dirty blonde haired girl, a little pudgy. They are both wearing sundresses. Their digimon, a Neemon and a Kunemon respectively are at their sides. _

"_You are _the_ T.K, right? Can we please get your autograph?" The red head asks. She speaks with an accent that seems part English and part Australian, with another part something Kari can't place. Both girls are holding out little notebooks. She notes that the girl is taller then her, and, in her mind, about as pretty. She has also not acknowledged her presence yet. The younger girl is looking wide-eyed. The digimon also ask, for Patamon's of course. This has been common lately. T.K is one of the most famous, he has of course fought the most, and is very good looking obviously, but still…_

"_Ummm…yeah…sure" He sounds very nervous. "But just so you know, that's _the_ Hikari there…what are your girls names, where are you from?" He glances quickly in Kari's direction. The girl smiles, much less warmly, at Kari. _

"_Sorry about that, didn't notice you there. My name's Anna Burg, this is my cousin Alicia. We're from South Africa. T.K, you are just so amazing, all the stories about you are so impressive, you fought better than…" The girl goes on, and T.K looks more and more uncomfortable. Gatoman looks at Kari, rolls her eyes. She puts her paw-print in the books, but with as much contempt as she can muster. Kari signs as well. _

"_Well, we would love to stay and chat, but we are about to go to the next presentation" Kari is trying hard to disengage. _

"_That one on politics? That's a little boring, isn't it? I mean, _I_ won't need to know all that stuff."_

_Kari dislikes her more and more by the second. She obviously knew it was her when she and her cousin approached the table, and the magazines couldn't stop going on about T.K and her however true that was, so that was unlikely to have been missed. Maybe Anna thinks that just because there is a precedent for a certain brother to go after redheads, she stood a chance. Not that Kari is jealous._

"_I believe that. Let's get moving guys." The foursome get up, T.K briefly excusing themselves. They start walking down the street towards the building Tai will be talking in. They aren't alone; many people are moving towards the building, down the cobbled street, talking and carrying on, locals as well on their daily business. Kari looks over at T.K who still looks a little uncomfortable and suddenly very tired. Kari knows it wasn't the fact that the girl was trying to flirt with him. A lot of people have asked them both for autographs in the last few months. A lot. Usually, they make a comment on T.K and Patamon's dedication and long effort in the digital world. Male and female. _

Even yesterday, that old ambassador from Taiwan. Complimenting them on their accomplishments. T.K looked ready to run.

_Kari will look back on this months later, and realize it was the first signs of a boy forced to be a man, brought to his knees by the weight of his own legend. _

_They can see Izzy up ahead; talking closely with Tentomon .The narrow streets are fenced in with the old buildings. A couple more security personnel walk by, one talking on a walky-talky. Michael, Mimi's American friend half jogs by, Betamon following in his wake. _

"_Hey Michael, wait up!" T.K shouts out, passing a motorcycle parked on the street. Michael slows down, and turns back to them._

"_Oh hey guys, I gotta run, I'm meeting someone before Tai speaks." He turns and begins to continue on his way. _

"_He just wants the best sea-" T.K doesn't get to finish his sentence. A crack rings out through the clear air. Michael, ahead of them crumples and falls back. For the smallest fraction of second, Kari has the macabre urge to laugh at the stunned and completely shocked face of T.K, with a streak of blood and a bit of grey matter on his face. Then she comprehends what has happened and draws a breath to scream, even as another voice in the crowd beats her to it. _

_It all happens so fast. She never gets the scream off. There is a huge roar, and the Kari is thrown forwards, heat blasting at her back, pushing her hard. She lands and skids on the cobblestones, close to Michael's body. Everything is suddenly very quiet to her. Her ears are ringing, everything is kind of foggy and slow. She sees another explosion further up the street, but she barely hears it. She can't feel much. A strong hand pulls her up to her feet. _

Who is that? Where is Gatomon? What am I doing on the ground anyway?

_Everything snaps back almost instantaneously. The scene leaps into sharp contrast. She hears screams and yelling, the lick of flames behind her, sirens in the distance, and gunshots. T.K is the one pulling her up, Gatomon is alert and tensed. Good reflexes. Maybe down a life. _

"_Kari, come on, we need to get to cover fast!" she says. She looks behind her, sees the burned out wreckage of the motorcycle, and two motionless human bodies, blood pooling under them. One digimon lies there, twitching. The smoke from the burning tires blackens the air. The two security men from earlier are firing their machine guns at a window ,themselves taking shelter in a doorway, while bullets kick up the cobbles around them, trading fire with whoever is shooting at them. One of the men yells and clutches a suddenly bloody arm. The other man shoots again, and then cries out in apparent victory. _

"_Let's GO Kari" T.K half drags her towards a small alcove twenty-five meters up the road. There are a few more bodies in the street. Kari sees the ruined head of Michael as they step over him. They run to the small alcove in a wall. Kari looks up the street. Whoever the attackers are, they are hard to spot. A roar, and a shock of lightening hits one of the buildings. Tentomon must have digivolved, but Kari sees another person, a local based on the dress, running up the street suddenly yell and fall down, blood staining the street. Kari is still in shock. She looks back, sees her footprints. Bloody footprints. It's Michael's blood. The situation suddenly hits her. She falls to her knees and vomits until her stomach is empty. T.K looks pale, but he is in control of himself. A whizzing sound past the mouth of the alcove, a bullet whipping by._

"_Patamon, top window, that building there!" T.K calls out a target. Kari sees a man wearing a bandana in second floor of one of the buildings, a gun in his hand. Patamon fires off one of his attacks, which hits the man in the face, causing him to pitch back, clutching his face. He loses his balance, and falls on the street with a sickening thud. More gunshots up and down the smoke filled street. A rooftop explodes as another one of Kabuterimon's_ _lighting attacks strikes home. The injured gunman on the ground feebly puts something in his mouth, jerks for a moment, then is still. He is wearing khaki, except for a black bandana around the bottom of his face. He looks European. A few more shots ring out. Kari wipes sweat from her eyes, only to see her hand come away red. She feels a cut on her head. Head wounds always bleed heavily though. _

_Almost as quickly as everything started, a strange silence covers everything. The fight or flight roar in her ears diminishes. Her hearing is still fuzzy from the explosion. The only sounds are approaching sirens, the lick of flames, and the cries of the wounded and sorrowful survivors. Kari brushes some more blood from across her eyes. She looks back at T.K. She suddenly notices that he is clutching his left fore-arm, and his shirt is soaked with blood there. He is now leaning against the wall. Patamon is nudging against him, trying to get him to rise._

"_Come on, T.K, we need to get help, now." Patamon implores. Kari suddenly feels a little faint. T.K grunts back, he is pale. She isn't sure what she should do. Move. The decision is made for her. Izzy and Kabuterimon are moving through the street, looking for more of the attackers, she assumes. He looks and spots them in the alcove._

"_You guys are alive? Thank god, come on, we need to get to the building we all first met up in here, down a few streets" Izzy is breathless. _

"_T.K is hurt, his arm…" Kari points to T.K. _

"_I'll be fine…there are people worse off then me." T.K says through gritted teeth. Izzy looks in closer. _

"_They'll have a medical teams set up at the medical tent location, come on, let's go. My guess is that Joe will be there already, pestering the doctors for med school tips." Izzy tries to lighten the mood. It half works, Kari grins a little. Izzy reaches in, pulls up T.K, puts his arm around T.K's waist, .T.K's good arm over his shoulders and they start to continue up the street they were walking on in the first place. There are people crying and screaming. People with various degrees of wounds are all moving up the street, supported by friends or strangers. Digimon move up as well, some looking a little worse for wear. There are bodies in the street, blood pools at low points in the road. A young boy, roughly the same age as Cody, lies off to the side, a small hole with blood all around it in his chest, his eyes open in a sightless stare. Kari dry heaves; there is nothing left in her stomach. Tentamon returns, Kabuterimon having run out of energy up the road. _

"_It's pretty bad, another bomb went off another street over, Izzy, that makes three." He says it in an almost business like tone. They keep going, more, even more heavily armed men run by. They are wearing army uniforms, not the black bulletproof vests that said "Policija". A helicopter buzzes overhead. They pass what must have been the second bomb Kari noticed. More bodies. A few body parts. Kari dry heaves again. Izzy looks like he will be sick too. T.K is in shock, so he must not notice. Gatomon hugs Kari's leg as she dry heaves. They have never seen anything like this. Others move with them, some moving faster, not wounded or encumbered with wounded, and they pass others, moving more slowly and weakly. _

_After what feels like an eternity, they reach the medical tent area. It is packed, more so with the uninjured looking for friends and loved ones then the actual wounded, it would appear. At least eight ambulances are there. Kari looks around at all the stricken faces. She sees an Agumon. The Agumon looks right at her._

'_Tai, I found her! Over here!" _

Oh, _our _Agumon.

_Her thoughts are fuzzy. Her brother strides into view around a knot of crying local women, and runs up to her and lifts her off her feet with an embrace, wearing a suit of all things, although the suit, with its dark blue pinstripes is now looking disheveled and wrinkled. _

Mom wouldn't be happy with that.

"_I was so worried, I knew you were coming to the presentation, you have a cut on your head! Is that T.K? He looks hurt…Matt is looking for him, he'll find us eventually…Izzy, what the hell IS all this? What happened?" Tai talks fast, which means he is thrown off balance. _

"_A terrorist attack of some kind Tai, I said that given some peoples reactions it was a distinct possibility." Izzy almost has an I-told-you-so tone in his voice, but not quite, more an echo of it._

"_Big brother, put me down, I'm fine, T.K needs help, where do we go?" Kari's thought reorder themselves, she tries to calm down._

"_Find a medic, they are doing a triage right now, see, this guy in the blue…"_

T.K had a piece of shrapnel in his arm, which was removed by surgeons an hour later. Two groups claimed joint responsibility. The bombs and a few of the gunmen were from Takfir wal-Hijra, an Islamic fundamentalist group. They claimed the attacks were generally for the heathenism of the West and its allies, and specific retribution for the "Satanic Children bringing demons into the world". The other group, providing the bulk of the gunmen, was the Greater Serbian Nationalist Front, a group of Serb ultra-nationalists that wanted a restoration of the former Yugoslavia as it was under Marshall Tito. For them, it was a high profile target inside a former Yugoslav state. They also mentioned attacking "evil children and their monsters" but without the vehemence of the Islamists. The two groups likely despised each other, but investigations come to the conclusion that a desire for bloodshed produces strange bedfellows.

The news reports listed the casualties as: three security personnel killed, five wounded, eight civilians killed, eleven wounded, five digidestined killed, seven wounded, and nine digimon dead, six seriously wounded. Izzy would say that the fact that they were not counted as civilians was very telling, and that it was the first time the media had counted digimon as casualties. All eight gunmen had been killed, either by the hand of the police and digimon or by cyanide pills if capture seemed imminent.

For Kari and the rest, it was a terrifying eye opener. In the digital world, the enemy had been blunt, and usually obvious. They had almost always gotten away without losing anyone, and they had never lost a human friend before. The real world was still a very cruel and dangerous place. That small window of freedom and security had been closed. For them, everything had changed. The world was going to take a long time to adjust. Those images of bloody streets and the dead would never leave them.

Kari opens her eyes and looks over at T.K on the couch. His head is bowed.

"I try writing, like you said, but everything that comes out is dark. It's a part of me I don't like. Better to get it out of me and on paper I guess…" T.K never lets anyone read those journals, not even Kari. Kari knows she doesn't want to read them. She holds him close.

"I'm going to go find Gatomon" Patamon flaps out of the room.

"I have the same dreams…I still flinch when I hear a loud bang…I'll ask Gatomon to stop stalking birds."

"Kari, are we all of us broken?" T.K looks up with a tired look. Kari shuts her eyes and a tear rolls down her face.

_None of us as much as you my love, none as much as you. _

"Good morning, this is your captain speaking. We are approaching JFK airport, and should be landing shortly. Thank you for flying Egyptair flight 958, Cairo direct to New York, and we hope you choose us again."

The stewardess moves up the aisle, making sure people are sitting and that they have their seatbelts on. She stops at one man who needs to buckle up. The man is stocky, but otherwise unremarkable, except that maybe his brown eyes are just a little too dead.

"Excuse me sir, you need to buckle up, we will be landing soon."

"Of course, thank you." The man has no real accent at all. He smiles as he buckles up. A reptilian smile. The stewardess wonders why she feels a chill run up her spine as she moves on.


	7. Chapter 7

Been a looooooong time since I updated, which itself had taken awhile. Excuses, etc. Anyway, got the story arc more figured out in my head, this chapter is more of a connecting bit. R + R si vous plait

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The young Latino girl sits on the top of the apartment stairwell. The off-white wall paint is peeling, chipped, and dirty. The dented metal banister beside her barely shows any traces of its original black paint. The Cupimon beside her looks up at the same time she does.

"You the man?"

"We sure are, sweetie", the man in the tan, dripping trench coat replies. Behind him stride three more men, wearing jackets that say NYPD on them. With them is a Shawjamon, around his neck a police ID badge on a lanyard.

_Why do they always have big eyes?_

Detective John Fitzpatrick's heart still breaks a little bit every time he sees children in a place like this. It shouldn't, he knows. He has been in places like this so many times he has lost count. He has even been in this particular building before. He's an older man, salt and pepper hair giving him an experienced look, which he is. A rookie in 1983, he faced a trial by fire back when New York was a much meaner city. He has seen pretty much anything a city cop can see, twice, as some of the younger guys joke. He has even killed a man, but he has no desire to repeat the experience. Even so, the eyes on that girl make him think of his daughters...

The police continue down the hallway, poorly lit. The window at the far end only offers minimal light, as the rain continues to pour outside. Another thunderstorm in the humid city summer.

_Overly portentous, if you are into that. Still, someone is going to get bad news today. _

They arrive at a half-open brown door with a wreath on it. It looks better cared for then the others somehow. There is a policewoman standing there.

"A neighbour heard yelling and some banging around, then saw a guy leave with a gun. " The officer speaks with a Brooklyn accent.

"What did he look like?"

"Kind of hard to describe, I have the statement here, she's in 713, you can talk to her yourself when you want to. Had a silencer on the gun she says. They always know their guns in places like this." She hands over a piece of paper.

"Victim?"

"Another kid, 16. Getting them young." The officer half chuckles darkly. "Go in and take a look."

Fitzpatrick walks in to the smallish apartment. Directly in the living room. He finds his first assessment was correct. It's a cozy place, tidy and clean. It feels like a home. The walls have some cheaper pictures; there is a vase of dried lavender on the kitchen table. The only thing marring the scene is a dead teenager, a pool of blood around him. He is face up, a bullet hole in his head. Very short brown hair covers his head. A small coffee table is knocked over, and there are smears of blood near that too. A struggle then. Fitzpatrick notes he is white, odd in this neighbourhood. There is another cop crouched by the body. He looks up, his eyes say it's the first murder victim he has ever seen. He is young, black. Some of the men that came in with Fitzpatrick start snapping pictures. More CSI guys are en route. Shawjamon checks the other rooms.

The young officer speaks up.

"Two shots in the chest, then one in the head. A professional. Looks like a bit of a struggle." He is trying to sound nonchalant, but it's not quite working. Another few months working this beat, and it won't be an act anymore. "His wallet was on the table by the door, says his name is Jamie Foster. Still money in it. Not a theft then." Fitzpatrick frowns. The officer continues. "Yeah, I know, I recognize the name too, but I don't know from where. "

Shawjamon walks back into the small room and meets Fitzpatrick's eyes.

"Other rooms seem clean, but we'll let CSI go over them more. " Fitzpatrick nods. Some people had been unsure or unnerved by the digimon. He had been willing to give them a chance. Shawjamon was easy to work with and dedicated. Not his digimon partner though, his work partner. Shawjamon was a loner, a rarity, and most of them stayed in the digital world, apparently. When he had shown up and joined, there was a lot of confusion as to how to handle it. In the end, he just wound up being like any other cop, except perhaps just more effective at handling crooks. The emergence of criminal elements using digimon themselves was quickly making them a necessity on the force.

Fitzpatrick examines the body again. The white t-shirt is blood stained. He notices a bump under the shirt, near his stomach. He looks over at one of the CSI guys.

"Hey, check what's under his shirt." The man obliges. He pulls something out, looks at it.

"Son of a bitch," he says. He holds the item up. It takes Fitzpatrick a second to work out what it is. One of those little electronic devices that all those 'chosen' children had. It had clearly been shot. There is no blood on it, and its placement could only have been intentional. He suddenly knew where he had heard the name Jamie Foster. He groans, and then looks over at the young officer.

"Keep this area cordoned off, I'm going to call the chief. This is going to be a shitstorm. "

Shawjamon has gone still. The digimon held those children in high regard. He might have to be pulled off the case. Outside, a flash of lightening and a peal of thunder, getting closer now.

........

Sora sits up and wipes the sweat out of her eyes. She wasn't the biggest fan of gardening, but she wryly notes that it is growing on her. _Ha ha_. She looks around at the village she is in. Everything is miniature. Small stone structures form a half moon arc. Yolei is moving some wood nearby; behind her carrying more on their heads en mass are the village occupants, Viximon. Still a lot to do in the digital world, Oikawa's sacrifice only having really restored the land completely. Biyomon is out helping by blasting a path to some fruit trees the Viximon were fond of. Hawkmon is taking a short break in the shade of one of the houses. Sora looks around at the neat rows of earth she has just seeded.

_It always seems there is something else to do whenever we finish. Matt must be wondering when I'm getting back. _

"Hey! Sora! Look who it is!" Yolei yells over at her, she's pointing over at a gap between the buildings. Returning is Biyomon and with her, shockingly, is Gennai. Gennai and his people had maintained a very low profile in the last year. The digidestined had not mentioned them to anyone at their behest. Izzy claimed they were a failsafe should humanity abuse the new connection to the digital world. Izzy also thought that since the connection was now permanent, Gennai and company might find themselves at risk.

Sora stands up, and jogs towards Gennai and Biyomon, Yolei just behind her with Hawkmon. She reaches Gennai, who is smiling at her, looking for all the world like a digital world's Obi-wan Kenobi. She hugs him.

"Gennai, it's been forever! How are you?" It feels good to see their old ally again.

"I'm fine, been lying low." He withdraws from the embrace. Sora notices that the smile is more strained up close. He looks from Yolei and Hawkmon to Sora and Biyomon

"You have all done so well. I am proud of you, handling politicians and generals looks a lot less pleasant then dark masters."

"At least we knew where the attacks were coming from with the dark masters." Sora laughs.

"Everyone else will want to see you, Gennai, you can't avoid us forever." Yolei adds.

Gennai's strained smile disappears completely, exposing a more intense yet still sorrowful visage.

"That will happen sooner than you think. I need to speak to all of you. It isn't good news, I'm afraid." He speaks gravely now. Sora feels deflated all of a sudden. Biyomon looks sad, as if she knew this was coming. Yolei looks shocked, Hawkmon resigned.

_Oh Gennai, when was that not the case?_

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"Well, we can get a flight out at 3:30 this morning."

"You know, I just don't feel up to that, even though I am still on Bolivia time."

"I agree. It might not be a bad thing just to stay here for the night, leave sometime tomorrow."

Tai rolls over on the opulent hotel bed and looks at Agumon.

"Right, we just stay out of trouble and get some sleep here, right?" Tai grins.

"Seriously? Let's go explore the city. Downtown, uptown, wherever. I want to see what this place is like. Besides, we could use some practice speaking Russian. We don't have to go looking for trouble. We're respectable now. Just some exploring, like old times."

"_Da._"

"Funny. Let's get some food, and then see what Tallin has to offer."


End file.
